


Slugs

by PUNIFA



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-16
Updated: 2012-05-16
Packaged: 2017-11-05 11:24:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/405862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PUNIFA/pseuds/PUNIFA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for this prompt from my favorite prompter: Sherlock has a fondness for slugs, which John only learns when he almost kills one in the bathroom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slugs

John has never liked slugs. He remembers, when he was a child, finding one nestled between the tomato and bread of a sandwich. After that he'd gone out into his mother's garden, armed with a full salt shaker, and proceeded to season every slug amidst the leaves and grass to their deaths; his first noble war, in the defense of his mother's peppers and tomatoes.

Which is why, when he finds one leaving a shiny trail along the bathroom tile, he swiftly makes his way to the kitchen, snatching up the salt and determinedly making his way back. As he passes through the living room Sherlock glances up from (John's) laptop, eyes zeroing in on the salt shaker and John's grim expression. He creases his eyebrows and shuts the laptop.

"What are you doing?"

"Taking care of a problem," John calls from the hallway, re-entering the bathroom to find the slug making its way up the side of the tub. He frowns even deeper, grooves appearing on his forehead, and shakes some salt into his hand. He raises his hand, tilts it, feels the salt begin to slide in his palm –

"Stop!" John whips his head around, hand closing into a fist around the salt, to find Sherlock standing in the doorway looking incredibly distraught. He sucks in a breath and closes his eyes.

"I don't care if it's one of your experiments, Sherlock; we agreed that they would stay  _out of the bathroom_."

"It's not one of mine;  _you_  brought him in," Sherlock says coolly, though he's eyeing the shaker of salt sharply. John shakes his head.

" _I_  did?"

"On your shoes. It's hardly the slug's fault."

"So I can't kill it?" Sherlock shakes his head, stepping into the bathroom, gaze flicking almost nervously between the slug and John's fist. John scoffs, moving his attentions back to the slug.

"That's ridiculous. How may rats have you done in?" He tips his hand again and suddenly Sherlock is kneeling right behind him, pale fingers darting out and scooping the slug off of the porcelain. John shudders as he watches it ooze across his skin, salt pouring from his hand and onto the floor.

"I'll just put him outside," Sherlock says, leaping up and out of the room, leaving John kneeling on the tile with a puzzled look on his face.

He swears, as he hears Sherlock make his way down the hallway, that the Detective is murmuring reassurances to the traumatized mollusk.


End file.
